Chapter 41. Deep in the Heart 

 ‘The Thain’s own coach,’ Posey said again in wonder, running a tentative hand over the velvet seatcovers.

 ‘Aye, m’love,’ Hilly answered, leaning back into the softness of the cushions. Though Pippin was not a lover of luxury, he spared no expense or thought when it came to Diamond’s comfort, and so the interior of the coach was as soft and pleasing to eye and touch and the ride as quiet and smooth as gold could secure.

 ‘Because you saved his son, we are to have every comfort and courtesy,’ Posey said.

 ‘He is generous, indeed,’ Hilly said, ‘and not afraid to shower others with blessing.’

 ‘All the way to the Bridge,’ Posey said, ‘and then to ride with Kingsmen...’ She gave a delicate shudder. ‘They’re so... so Big, Hilly! How ever will I bear it?’

 ‘Bergil will take you on his saddle before him,’ Hilly said, ‘with as much care as if you were his child... though he has none, yet. And I will ride with Denny, unless you prefer the look of Denny to that of Bergil.’

 ‘No children,’ Posey sighed. ‘Poor fellow!’

 ‘He’s not married yet,’ Hilly said to reassure her. ‘He told Pippin that he has an understanding with a lass down in the Southlands, and that he hopes to marry her some time after he returns there... when the King gives him leave so to do, of course.’

 ‘When the King gives him leave?’ Posey asked in amaze. ‘He cannot marry when he will?’ She couldn’t imagine such a thing.

 ‘He is a soldier of the King,’ Hilly said. ‘His first thoughts must be for his duty, and not for a wife or child.’

 ‘Well I never!’ Posey huffed. ‘The next thing you’ll say is that his life is not his own, and he must come and go at the order of the King!’

 ‘Not so different from an escort of the Thain,’ Hilly said calmly. ‘Sometimes the going is not so arduous, however.’ He glanced around the interior of the coach, lifted the lid on one of the baskets, selected from the generous and carefully assembled contents a bunch of grapes grown in the Great Smials’ hothouse, and broke a luscious globe free. He brought it to the mouth of his beloved with a smile, and followed the tempting morsel soon after with a kiss. Luxury, indeed!

***

 ‘I heard you’d not been fishing,’ Hob Hayward said as he set his heavy basket down. ‘Is aught amiss?’

 ‘No,’ Bergil said. ‘All is well! We just thought to give the fish a rest this day.’ Denny nodded his agreement, though he eyed the second basket-bearing hobbit with a worried look.

 ‘Ah then, that’s all right,’ Hob said brightly. ‘We feared you might not have enough to eat, without a catch of fish to tide you over, so we brought extra!’

 ‘Very kind, I’m sure,’ Bergil said firmly.

 ‘Kind indeed,’ Denny said, smiling to hide his dismay.

Though they’d agreed they didn’t need to fish, what with the prodigious supply of food the shirriff or an innkeeper or a farmer brought, renewed daily, Bergil said, ‘So very kind, but I find I miss the exercise and excitement of fishing, so we’ll likely be catching strings of fish again on the morrow. Please don’t bestir yourself to worry on our account.’

 ‘The Missus was most happy to put up two baskets for you gentlemen,’ Hob said. ‘One each, as it were. We can easily keep bringing two, for we don’t want you hungering as you wait. The Thain charged us most solemnly to see to your comfort and feeding!’

 ‘The Thain,’ Bergil said thoughtfully. It would be a fine joke on Pippin’s part to solemnly charge the hobbits with stuffing him like a goose being fattened for the feast. ‘Very kind of him, I’m sure, but truly, with the strings of fish we’ve been catching, one basket of food is plenty!’ As it was, his mail was getting uncomfortably snug. He looked forward to steady meals again—steady, not constant!

 ‘Strings of fish!’ Denny echoed. He did not add that they set each fat fish free after letting the string sit in the water awhile, at least until their daily basket was brought and the bringer got to see the fine, fat fish “intended” for the guardsmen’s supper.

 ‘Well then,’ Hob said, not quite satisfied. ‘I do hope you’ll tell the Thain we didn’t let you starve.’

 ‘I’ll be sure to tell him,’ Bergil said with a firm nod. ‘You can be certain of that!’

***

Estella watched in fascination as Elessar carefully worked through each layer of muscle. Elladan wiped away blood as he held back the edges. The King carefully dealt with the blood vessels encountered, either cauterising each with a rod that stood in a brazier full of coals, or tying the larger vessels off, one by one, with fine strong thread of horsehair, just as a Shire healer might use. Arwen stood by her husband’s side, wiping his face on occasion. For some reason, the King’s forehead was wet with perspiration, though his face remained calm and he kept up a low-voiced but unintelligible—to the watching hobbits, at least—conversation with the sons of Elrond.

 Shards of the Sword that was broken! Elessar was thinking to himself. I’d forgotten just how small these blood vessels are! Long had it been since he’d watched Elrond delving into Frodo’s shoulder and down into his chest; long had it been since he himself had worked over Pippin’s injuries.

Another, Elladan said with a nod, and the King dealt with the bleeder. Then another careful cut and a gleam of white shone amongst the strands of muscle.

 ‘There,’ Elessar said, looking up to meet Estella’s eyes; she’d looked to him when he spoke the word in the language she understood. ‘It is as I thought. Here is bone where there should not be bone.’

 ‘How?’ Samwise asked, craning for a look.

 ‘When the arrow struck, or perhaps when the ruffian twisted it in the wound,’ Pippin said absently, his attention on Merry’s peaceful face. He could not bring himself to look into the wound.

 ‘Pieces of bone were broken off,’ the King agreed, separating muscle from bone with delicate prods of his finger. ‘They commenced to grow in the new places where they found themselves, and trapped his arm so that he could not move it.’

Carefully, Estel, Arwen whispered, seeing the glistening of nerve-fibre. The Road...

 ‘Road,’ Sam said, leaning forward. ‘I know that word! What road?’

 ‘The king in his citadel sends messengers down the Road,’ Pippin said, remembering Elessar’s words as the King explained to Merry why he thought Merry’s hand grew ever more numb and unresponsive. ‘Some messengers gather information and speed northwards, to bring it to the king’s ears. Hot, cold, pain, pleasure...’

 ‘Messengers?’ Sam said, confused.

 ‘Other messengers race from citadel southwards,’ Pippin continued, ‘with the king’s orders for troop movements.’ He gave a shallow cough and added, 'Something pressing against the Road, just as a rock-fall blocks an actual road, can prevent the messengers from doing their duty.'

 ‘The king is what’s inside your head, Samwise,’ Elessar said, not taking his eyes from the painstaking work of his hands, but somehow sensing the good Mayor’s confusion. ‘The troops are the rest of your body, all the parts you use to move, or to feel.’

 ‘Ah,’ Sam said, his furrowed brow smoothing as he considered this thought. ‘And if the road is cut off, like a real road washed out by a flood, the messengers cannot travel between king and troops and gatherers of news...’ He took a shaky breath, not reassured by his new understanding, and awed that this Man should have such knowledge of people’s innards.

There was a small, sickening crack as Elessar broke the offending bone, after which he worked it loose, lifted it from the wound and dropped it on the floor, into a small pool of blood that had trickled down. Pippin never took his eyes from Merry’s face, but Sam swayed a bit at the sight, bumping against Pippin, for he remembered too vividly another pool of blood in another place, another time. Pippin took his arm and held tightly. ‘Steady,’ he whispered.

Estella gasped, and Elrohir turned his eyes on her. ‘All right?’ he said softly.

 ‘I am well,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting it to be so... so...’ Her voice trailed off and she took a deep breath. ‘I know that the badly-healed bone was to be re-broken,’ she said bravely. ‘I just didn’t know how many bones must be broken. Each chip? Each one has grown into an impediment?’

 ‘Each one must be removed,’ Elladan said, pulling the lips of the wound wider in anticipation of Elessar’s further exploration.

 Too much blood, Estella was thinking, but she did not dare voice the thought. Elessar was a healer, after all, and she was not. She knew various uses of healing herbs, and she could press a cloth against a bleeding wound, or stitch a gash, yes, and she could stabilise a limb that awaited a healer to set the bone, but she’d not needed to know much more than that. Perhaps one should expect more bleeding when delving so deep. At the thought she swallowed hard again, breathing shallowly through her mouth. I will not swoon!

Piece by piece the misplaced bone was broken and removed.

Estella did not see anything else, for she had closed her eyes after the first breaking, biting her lip at each succesive painful sound. Elrohir watched her with concern, and when he saw her trembling he took his fingers from Merry’s throat to steady her on her chair.

At last Elessar turned his attention to the bones of the shoulder itself. He ran his fingers gently along the surface, and then... Sam felt a shudder go through Pippin at the last crack, louder than the others, and he pulled free of Pippin's grasp to put an arm around the younger hobbit. He could not quite see what Strider was doing, but the King was frowning more in concentration than worry, he decided.

 ‘Done,’ the King said, satisfaction in his voice. ‘That ought to heal true, and we’ve freed the Road for the messengers once more.’